Happy 2012!

I seriously meant to post something like, last week sometime, as a “oh hey, Happy New Year” and all that blah blah blah excitement but in my working frenzy, I didn’t. I wish I had a good excuse but I don’t. And I’m too damn tired to make one up.

I’m not positive why her pants are pulled up to her nipples. I’m inclinded to blame my nephew, who is holding her, but it’s probably just that they were wicked big and instead of dressing her in clothes that fit, I choose to dress her stylishly and in skinny jeans.

I told her we had to go to the doctors — I got this face. Almost as if to say “Are you f**king kidding me, Ma?”

She had to get some shots.



Bath Time is always a treat. However, I’m beginning to realize that she thinks being awake is an issue, as evident by her expression

So Christmas — yea. That was fun. Beanie wasn’t down with the photo shoot. All we wanted was one lousy picture of her and C to document their first christmas. Just one. We got him poking her in the eye, her falling over on him, him looking at her like she was friggin crazy, and then we got this beauty.

“Fuck It. We’re over it.”

 She got over it quite nicely, obviously.

and yes, for the record, E and I pierced her ears before Christmas. I don’t care what you say, lecture me all you want but I did it for safety reason. The Safety Reason being that if one more innocent bystander random person tells me “Oh, what a precious little man”, I will cut a bitch.
Have you ever encountered those people that think their child is awesome and gorgeous and is the next supermodel of the world? Yet when you see the pictures (which they happen to bust out long before the morning coffee), you are left thinking “now why, on Gods Green Earth would she hate me THAT much and show me that picture as a result of said hatred?” You are at a loss for words and you are scrambling to say anything but the first thing that comes to mind?

Parents: It’s ok to admit your child isn’t the prettiest.

 Mine happens to look like an Angry Sumo Wrestler, from time to time.

But fortunately that look went away quickly and for New Years, she spent some time with her personal body guard. 

And now that we’ve ushered in the New Year, we’re set for some serious football. This is her Lucky Dress 🙂 (no seriously, every time she wears it, the Ravens win.)

Now Chunk is weighing in at a whopping 13 lbs 12 oz and is 24 1/4″ long.

And she snarls if you call her “Chunk”. A fun fact I learned the hard way.

Happy Merry Everything!

2011 has been quite a year!

We went to the church with our closest family and friends
We had a Baby…


…and I fell even deeper in love
So from our family to yours out there — Happy Merry Everything!

(Pardon Beanie’s blank stare. She wasn’t so much enjoying the flash photography)

**The photos printed on the Birth Announcement are courtesy of Laura Ruane at La Rue Photography, located in Dallastown, PA. She is a freelance photographer that I went to high school with. Those 5 shots are just a few of the MANY fantastic shots she captured (for what Beanie was allowing her to do) and her patience are that of a Saint! If you are in the area and looking for a photographer, I’d definitely look her up!**

Ahh, the conversations of parents

—–Original Message—–
From: Lara
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 7:14 AM
To: E

Yea. you should have heard Beanie going to town on her thumb this morning. I got her out of the car and the poor girl is straining to get to it. Nut job, I tell you


—–Original Message—–
From: E
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 7:25 AM
To: Lara

That’s great. I feel so bad not saying buy to her in the morning, but I don’t wanna wake her up


—–Original Message—–
From: Lara
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 7:25 AM
To: E

Oh good heavens, don’t anger it in the mornings. I swear, between having to wake her up or you up, I’m not sure which. Both make me want to harm myself


—–Original Message—–
From: E
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 7:27 AM
To: Lara


I’m sorry


—–Original Message—–
From: Lara
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 7:27 AM
To: E


Oh it’s ok. I deal with it as it comes. At least she stopped peeing on the walls. For now.


—–Original Message—–
From: E
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 7:28 AM
To: Lara

Yeah that’s true


—–Original Message—–
From: Lara
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 7:28 AM
To: E


Give it some time. I’m sure she’s plotting and waiting for that “right” moment when we pull her diaper back and BAM! Gotcha. *insert sadistic smile here*


—–Original Message—–
From: E

Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 7:31 AM
To: Lara

Yeah pee, poop, and puke all at the same time. The 3 p’s. Lmfao


—–Original Message—–
From: Lara
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 7:31 AM
To: E


I still like the time you started yelling “fine. Just do whatever then”


—–Original Message—–
From: E
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 7:38 AM
To: Lara

Lol. Completely off topic. I got us a brand new snow shovel


The “time that you started yelling” is the time that E changed Beanie. Or attempted too. I’m in the living room and usually he’ll talk to her and she’ll coo back at him. Not this time. I hear “oh. OH NO, hold on” and then I hear “seriously? are you for real? Fine. Do whatever you want. I’ll wait until you’re done” And this was followed by a baby giggle.

Apparently she had started to spit up. E moved the onesie to stop it from going into her hair and he fails to cover her baby parts with the diaper. Cue the chance to pee.

I swear, this child knows how to get to us.

And then there was the time… that time…. oh yes. There was THAT time…

Yes. This is what you think it is. We’re THOSE parents.

But when you have a face like this, you can shit on any wall you’d like 🙂

PS. I don’t know anything about the shovel but if you don’t hear from me in a while, check to see if he installed a new patio.

Someone should have warned me

Having a kid isn’t hard, being a grown up is.

I went back to work after having 64 days off. And by “OFF”, I mean 64 days where they only called and nagged me 14 times instead of the usual 36. And let me tell you, 64 days is not nearly enough time to lose the undisclosed amount of weight I’ve gained. Or even lose enough to fit back into my work pants. But at the risk of possibly stabbing someone that I work with, I’m rocking my regular pants with a belly band I opted not to wear my maternity pants. I’m sad that yoga pants were ruled completely unacceptable.

Bastards never birthed a child, obviously. This is why only men are ever in charge.

So yea. I’m back at work and Beanie is rocking out with Mommom and Poppy.

I think I’m missing a mom gene. Don’t get me wrong, I miss her. But I was irrationally excited to get back to this shithole and clean up whatever it is that’s messed up (everything!) I think Beanie and I have an understanding and its best described by the old adage “how can I miss you if you won’t go away”.

I don’t miss the screaming, I don’t miss the vomiting of nasty ass formula, I don’t miss having to change my shirt 4 times in 3 hours, I don’t miss the peeing on the wall.

I don’t. At All.

But at the end of the day, I’m so super excited to get home and see this little lady.

I mean c’mon, you can’t tell me this isn’t one of the cutest kids you’ve ever seen!

Thanksgiving 2011

Ok so now that we all know I’m the world’s worst blogger (hello — you try blogging with a newborn!) but I figured let’s start it back up and let you know what’s up.

FB has been doing this whole “What I’m Thankful For”. I didn’t jump on that train this year but I have PLENTY to be thankful for so here goes (in NO particular order):
1) My Husband — The man makes me want to drink, plain and simple. But I love him dearly. I love not only how he makes me feel when he’s around but I love he makes me love me, which has been hard for me to do.


2) Beanie — My Miracle Baby — she is the light of my life. I want to hug her and love her and name her George. She screams at me and hates to let me sleep and will probably be found, staring at me while I sleep, plotting my doom, but I love her.

3) Doctor’s Being Wrong — I know this sounds absolutely ridiculous but because many doctor’s were wrong, I was able to get pregnant. Well that and my husband’s sperm but I’m not exactly listing that as a thing to be thankful for. That’s just gross.

4) Divorce — even more ridiculous, right? But because my divorce was FINALLY finalized, I was able to marry E and get on with my life.

5) Gibbs — He’s my silver-haired fox. I would have said Randy Orton but I once said “I’d let him throw me around the bedroom” but that was not very well received so we don’t joke about that anymore. We know Gibbs ain’t picking my fat ass up so it’s ok to list him.

6) The Posse of Ninja Moms — seriously, without these ladies, I’d be curled up in the corner of a room, swaying back and forth, wearing a straight jacket. Well, I still do that some days but it’s not nearly as often. Seriously, no words had ever been truer then being told “Right now you’re probably getting your ass kicked by this tiny human that doesn’t yet know how to be a human but it’s ok…” These words probably saved my life. That’s all I can say on this matter because, like Fight Club, what’s the #1 rule? Right. You get it.

7) The Sibling — she’s totally my best friend. She talks me down from the ledge. She just gets me.

8) My Sister In Law — we weren’t BFF when we first met and I totally get it. Here I come, the new chick, busting onto the scene and clearly Ethan didn’t have the best taste in women (I’ve seen pictures) so she’s all “who the hell is this new chick?” but I made her like me. That’s right, I MADE her. I’m all “we WILL be friends” and finally, she relented and humored me. Totally kidding. But we are friends now and defintitely embracing the sister role.

9) My Family — they are absolutely bat shit crazy but I love them and they are best family I could ask for. I don’t tell them nearly enough and that makes me suck but they know. I know they know. They know I know they know.

10) Friends That I’ve had for Upward of 26 Years — Friends come and go but I have a friend that I’ve had since we were 4. It’s so serious that even our dads were friends! I was recently in her wedding (the pic you see below) and she has been there for me through leaving for the CG, my divorce, my meeting and marrying E, having a baby, and I have no doubt in my mind that she will be there for me for years to come.

11) My Interwebs Friends — Don’t ask. It’s a secret.

12) Marney — if you don’t know about her, you betta axe somebody.

13)  Reality TV — reminding me that someone, somewhere has more drama in their lives then I do.

14) My Job — I hate it. I hate the people I work with. But I can’t complain because it pays the bills and after being home for so long, I’m looking forward to getting back into the rat race.

I’m positive I’m forgetting things but these are the first things I could think of and Beanie is starting to scream.

But at the end of the day, these two are my world and I never fail to remember or recognize that, despite all of my bad luck, I’m right where I should be

Welcome To The World

Contractions started at 0715 on Monday, 9.26.11. After 17 hours of unmedicated, trying to stick it out at home laborous contractions, I finally told E “Honey, it’s time”, although it went a little more like “get your shit, I’m in pain”. Poor boy only had 2 hours of sleep before I woke him up.

We got to the hospital at 1230 on 9.27.11 and we got to spend 7 hours in the triage area. For some reason, the midwife on call refused to check me. She did, however, offer me some Stadol for the contractions. Let me tell you, this stuff — it’s interesting. Trying to itch my nose, I smacked myself in the face quite a few times. That was the extent of her bedside manner.

Thankfully, once the shift changed, there was a host of new staff and they were fantastic. Around 0730, the midwife checked me and I was 2.5cm dilated so they said “mmkay, you can stay” and we got to walk to our room. We weren’t leaving without our baby girl!

Once we got to our room, I was lucky enough to get an epidural. That wasn’t in my original plan but after having contractions for 24 hours, I needed something. Problem is, they had trouble with it. They finally got it, or so they thought.

I labored through the day and around 2:30p, they broke my water. Let me tell you, there is nothing ok about having them break your water. Not because it’s gross but because it’s like you pee yourself and you can’t control it.

Labor continued and they told me I was 8cm and I was going to get pitocin to help me progress.

It was all downhill from there.

The pitocin and the epidural didn’t mix well and I couldn’t breathe. They turned back one of the two and I was ok so I slept for a bit. Until all of a sudden, I’m awoken by the nurse, telling me that I needed to roll over. Problem was, because I had the epidural (and whatever they did to it), I had zero control over my legs/lower half. It took 3 people to roll me over. Turns out, because of the mixture of the epidural and the pitocin, my heart rate plummeted and the baby’s stopped registering completely.

They turned down the epidural and I felt everything. I was so out of it though, I couldn’t communicate, other then to cry. They got everything under control and I slept some more.

Until it happened again.

This time, my brother-in-law had come to visit and he was put to work. They had him help roll me over (Sorry B-I-L, if you saw anything that will cause you to never make eye contact with me again). After they got my heart rate back up and the baby’s heart rate was back on the monitor, they said “time to push”.

Yea, that didn’t work.

After 3 hours of pushing on and off, I finally said “I’m done”. 24 hours+ without food (sorry but ice chips don’t do shit for hunger), and 39 hours in labor, I was calling it a day. The midwife on call wanted to argue but I ended up with a c-section. I started feeling ill and sure enough, I had a temperature of 100.4*.

I had a c-section but again, the meds didn’t work so I felt everything. After they got her out (unbeknowst to me because no one told me what was going on), I finally asked for something strong so they gave me something that knocked me out and by “knocked me out”, I mean, I don’t remember anything from 10p Tuesday night to 2:30am Wednesday morning.

It wasn’t until 3am that I was coherent enough to be told that our baby girl was in the NICU. With my fever, it turns out I had something called Chorioamnionitis. No one told me this until Wednesday afternoon. I was hooked up to IVs and after I finished the bag, they allowed me to go to the NICU to see my baby girl for the first time ever. E had already seen her and met her so he was getting the info on her.

Regardless of the shitty experience of labor and delivery, the unprofessionalism of the NICU staff upon initial interaction, and the arguing with the midwife and Attending OB surgeon, I finally got my baby.

Welcome To The World
Born: 9.27.11
Time: 2155 (9:55p)
Weight: 8lbs, 4.46oz
Length: 20″
Proud Daddy, visiting his baby girl
Happy Mama, finally getting to hold Beanie
We are completely in love and while she’s giving us a run for our money, we couldn’t be happier

The Final Countdown

40 Weeks
40 Weeks 4 Days
I finally had enough.
I tried everything to get this little lady out.
I mean everything.
I ate spicy food.
I drank caster oil.


I  was even in a wedding at 2 days over due and attempted to dance her out! (which was quite amusing because everyone thought I was pregnant with multiples and had time. Imagine their surprise when I told them simply “nope, only one baby and I was due on thursday”)

But nothing. Well, we did try something else but you all don’t need to know about that.

Needless to say, it was a “Hi Due Date. Bye Due Date” kind of time.

Prison Sentence

I’m officially no longer allowed to work. I made it 39w4d through the pregnancy before finally my doctors won and said “no mas!”

In hind sight, I should have stopped sooner. The commute was starting to get to me, the walking through the buildings was not fun, and the complications that were beginning to arise made me hate life. 

But I’m bored. 

I can only handle hearing “You ARE NOT the father” so many times before even Maury can’t help. 

Yesterday was a different story though. 

I woke up and I couldn’t stand up straight. The pressure I was feeling, I thought for sure something was going on. Of course I had no idea because this is my first baby and the midwife I had seen prior to refused to look to see what was going on “because I wasn’t having contractions”. 

After crawling through our apartment and sobbing, I made it to my doctor’s appt. Very little progress (read: NONE!) but one thing that was concerning to the midwife was the Little Lady’s heart rate kept dropping. So over the L&D we went. 

 All was well, she looks fantastic, heart rate is strong, and fluid levels look good.

But she’s not making it easy for us. She’s showing no signs of vacating. With a due date of 9.22, I’m thinking that date is going to come and go — with no debut…

So Close — Yet So Far Away

37 Weeks

38 Weeks

39 Weeks – Will this be the last one?

So 3 more weeks have passed here in Pregnancy Land but guess what? Well, you already know. I’m still pregnant. Still.
And now I’m to the point where, whenever I call well, pretty much anyone, the conversation starts with “OMG, Are you ok?!” So before they get a chance to speak, I have to yell “I’m Ok!” and then continue the conversation.
Not much else going on other than I’ve finally been told not to come back to work and E is working 12+ hours a day, Ladybug’s room is nearly complete, and that’s about it.
We lead a pretty boring life as of late.
Although I did get a picture message from E with his latest purchase: 


What a good man 🙂

Just Do It — It won’t kill you

E’s finding it harder and harder to argue with his wife who is 39 weeks pregnant (that would be me, in case you’re wondering… Yes, I’m still pregnant. Still.)

A conversation from last night:

Him: I may or may not have eaten one of your chocolate bunt cakes that you got from the Farmer’s Market.

Me: Are you f**king kidding me?

Him: umm….

Me: I will seriously kill you in your sleep.

Him: I’ll eat the other one, if that’s how this is going to go down.

Me: {{{staring daggers in his direction}}}

To my knowledge, my chocolate bunt cake is still there and E woke up, all parts in tact, this morning so all in all, it’s a success.

But what kills me, I’m massive. Like, I’m talking, I can’t see my toes, don’t bother asking when the last time I shaved my legs were (hello, there are arteries down there, I don’t want to die, smooth legs or not). Yet he seems to point out the obvious when it comes to doing things. The other night he was in the bathroom was in the other room and I asked him to turn the fan on. He comes into the bedroom and looks at me, point blank and says “why can’t you do it?” Umm, jackhole, it took me 30 mins to hoist myself into bed, the bed YOU refuse to lower. “Pretty please with sugar on top?”

He did it because he wanted to live to meet his daughter.

He won’t, however, look for the hairy, scary spider that is residing in my SUV that made me almost hit a shopping cart at Target the other day. He’s convinced that it won’t bite me, kill me, and then eat me.

Apparently he doesn’t know “women and children go first”. Ass.


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